Posted in #life, communication, inspiration, personalgrowth, psychology, sentiments


I’ve been thinking that at the time we have to be single, is really the time we have to get good at been alone but how good at been alone do we really want to be? Isn’t there a danger that you will get so good at been single, so set in your ways that you will miss out on the chance to be with somebody great? Some people take baby steps to settle down, some people refuse to settle at all. Sometimes it’s not statistics it’s just chemistry and sometimes just because it’s over doesn’t mean the love ends. The thing about been single is you should cherish it because in a week or a lifetime of been alone you may only get one moment. One moment when you are not tied up in a relationship with anyone; a parent, a pet, a sibling, a friend. One moment when you stand on your own, really truly single. And then, it’s gone!

Posted in international day of peace, peace, writing

Piece of Peace

Today we join the world in marking International Peace Day. Celebrated every 21st September, peace can mean a lot of things in our lives. Let’s coin it from the normal UN definition.  For some of us war, clashes between ethnic groups has been our daily meal and this day marks that all this needs to end! We need to sit down, come up with strategies, policies and good decisions to create peace.

For others been in a bad relationship full of hatred, bad luck and heavy war zone between the mind and heart all you need is a piece of peace today. So yes go for that dose.

For others remembering Nobel Peace Prize winners will be the key thing or nominating that one individual who has dedicated their works to promoting peace among nations, societies and communities. Who are you celebrating today?

For others been at Holy peace is what they need. Getting closer to God for He is the peace provider by defeating the devil’s war is their goal. The Bible has depicted places of war for instances the plagues, the Israelite’s in Egypt, the reigns of Kings who were at war not forgetting Jesus himself was at war with non-believers. However, in all this peace verses are in plenty. Have a look at them here:

For others, you are at war with yourself. Indecisive decisions, not achieving your set goals, doing vice-versa of what is intended to be done and all you need to do is listen to your inner being. Breath in and out and let peace prevail.

For others who are development minded, working towards achieving the Sustainable Development Goal on Building Blocks for Peace is what drives nations at large. As we implement structures, infrastructure, laws name them; are we using the favorable blocks to drive peace?

For others, been in groups, forums and movements promoting peace shall be their main agenda today. As a member of Peace Ambassadors Kenya, my colleges are in Tanzania for a youth exchange programme on peace. Whichever way your group is promoting peace today, let the impact not only be felt today but for other years to come.

So how are you celebrating this day?

Happy International Peace Day




Here is my message to my country: What is your message?

my message



Posted in adventures, tourism

Giraffe Kiss

Giraffe center situated in Karen houses giraffes and is one major tourist attraction in Kenya. Mainly the giraffe feeding is what excites many including me back in high school when a trip to this locale was made. Pellets are fed to them and the best way to do it,  is  by putting one in between the lips and letting the giraffe take it in one swoop as a kiss. Its tongue been long with sticky saliva this is one awesome kiss.

What is that one crazy picture you have had with wildlife animals? Throwback Thursday share them here.

me getting my giraffe kiss
Posted in family, friendship, happy birthday, love

Open Letter #1 To my lil bro on his birthday

Pilot Ed,

Boy boy boy. Look at you so tall that you have overtaken the other giraffe in the house that you be flossing about it all day. Back in the days when we welcomed you to the family you were so adorable, cheeky, brown not forgetting the baby hair I loved so much. Now all that physique has been replaced by a chocolate face that get me thinking is it the sun’s wrath or a tan that refutes to go after vigorous washing? From baby to bush tough hair all in the name of baby locks has made our parents give up the “go to the barber” song but on a sister perspective, man cut that hair it doesn’t look cute on you. Am not hating but the head structure is not blending to it if you roger what am trying to say…. (some one vouch for me here).

Growing up you were such a pain in the ass bro. Your first week to school was dramatic as on many occasions I had to be summoned during classes to come calm your crying self since you had not fully given up on suckling. “I want to go home to suckle,” you would burst out loud and trust me you took so long to stop it (mama’s milk seemed to be the best). Wheels took a different turn when every day to school you would ask for 1 shilling bob to buy sweets and since you were the last born which comes with its privileges, you always got what you wanted. However, this became too much when you would make us late for school since your demands had been cut short. It took a thorough beating from Mama Dennis to pluck it off; our liberator.

Our fav house help Suzie voluntarily went to open up her tailoring business when I was in class 5 and since I knew no one would replace her feeling all grown up as a first born, I courageously asked my parents not to hire another and that was how division of labor started. I loved doing our school uniform laundry but when you would mess it up to a rainbow kind of mix, that was torture. Looking after you became routine and I loved every bit of it till teenage hood kicked in. Either the hormones skyrocketed or been a teen just happened. So hard-headed you were that I had to repeat something like a hundred times and many are the times you never bothered to do it. Laziness was instilled in you but thank goodness that was not reflected in your studies.

Been a shairi master was your second name in primary school as you represented solo verses so well that saw you transverse across the country but I fail to understand why in high school you never continued with this passion. In high school so away from home, you were modelled into a good man with sciences as your A thing. I longed for the holidays to see you, update me on the latest vibes, movies name them. Those four years flew so fast and you were done with high school and having excelled, university was your next action. Now you already in second year and teaching me a lot.

19 years have been the realest awesome years despite stepping on each other’s toes. You might be the last but I take most lessons from you. Your free spirit attitude has made you a friend to many including under 10 children who are always asking for you, calling you, running towards you for hugs and for you to hold them; what exactly do you tell them to receive all that love? Can already tell you will be a good father. The late night silly chats have always kept me awake to lift my moods when am bored. Your way of saving has always made me look like a spendthrift and occasionally you have come to the rescue whenever we broke.  When it comes to movies trust me I always preserve them to watch when he is around so that we can crack our ribs out. My partner in crime.

I wish most of us can hold onto our dreams like you do. Your childhood dream was to be a pilot and that has never changed till today. Your rigid stand has made you know all about this career and even though you pursuing a different course in the marine sector due to the high fees paid in the aviation world and your dream school been in SA, baby I know you got this and we working so hard to see you through it. Like we always joking “aye, aye captain.”

You are a dreamer, a visionary, go-getter, lover of life, optimistic, hardworking and above all God fearing. As you turn 20 today my prayer is that all that never changes and May the Almighty grant you many more to see all you have lined up accomplished. In all you do, do you and know that you the best bro ever. I love you.




our lil chipmunk back in the days
ready for school
shairi master
baby steps
high school
in uni
Posted in love, my library, short stories

Test of Love

Once upon a time, in the days when divs and jinns and giants roamed the land, there lived a farmer named Baba Ayub. He lived with his family in a little village by the name of Maidan Sabz. Because he had a large family to feed, Baba Ayub saw his days consumed by hard work. Every day, he labored from dawn to sundown, plowing his field and turning the soil and tending to his meager pistachio trees. At any given moment you could spot him in his field, bent at the waist, back as curved as the scythe he swung all day. His hands were always callused, and they often bled, and every night sleep stole him away no sooner than his cheek met the pillow. I will say that, in this regard, he was hardly alone. Life in Maidan Sabz was hard for all its inhabitants. There were other, more fortunate villages to the north, in the valleys, with fruit trees and flowers and pleasant air, and streams that ran with cold, clear water. But Maidan Sabz was a desolate place, and it didn’t resemble in the slightest the image that its name, Field of Green, would have you picture. It sat in a flat, dusty plain ringed by a chain of craggy mountains. The wind was hot, and blew dust in the eyes. Finding water was a daily struggle because the village wells, even the deep ones, often ran low. Yes, there was a river, but the villagers had to endure a half-day walk to reach it, and even then its waters flowed muddy all year round. Now, after ten years of drought, the river too ran shallow. Let’s just say that people in Maidan Sabz worked twice as hard to eke out half the living. Still, Baba Ayub counted himself among the fortunate because he had a family that he cherished above all things. He loved his wife and never raised his voice to her, much less his hand. He valued her counsel and found genuine pleasure in her companionship. As for children, he was blessed with as many as a hand has fingers, three sons and two daughters, each of whom he loved dearly. His daughters were dutiful and kind and of good character and repute. To his sons he had taught already the value of honesty, courage, friendship, and hard work without complaint. They obeyed him, as good sons must, and helped their father with his crops.

Though he loved all of his children, Baba Ayub privately had a unique fondness for one among them, his youngest, Qais, who was three years old. Qais was a little boy with dark blue eyes. He charmed anyone who met him with his devilish laughter. He was also one of those boys so bursting with energy that he drained others of theirs. When he learned to walk, he took such delight in it that he did it all day while he was awake, and then, troublingly, even at night in his sleep. He would sleepwalk out of the family’s mud house and wander off into the moonlit darkness. Naturally, his parents worried. What if he fell into a well, or got lost, or, worst of all, was attacked by one of the creatures lurking the plains at night? They took stabs at many remedies, none of which worked. In the end, the solution Baba Ayub found was a simple one, as the best solutions often are: He removed a tiny bell from around the neck of one of his goats and hung it instead around Qais’s neck. This way, the bell would wake someone if Qais were to rise in the middle of the night. The sleepwalking stopped after a time, but Qais grew attached to the bell and refused to part with it. And so, even though it didn’t serve its original use, the bell remained fastened to the string around the boy’s neck. When Baba Ayub came home after a long day’s work, Qais would run from the house face-first into his father’s belly, the bell jingling with each of his tiny steps. Baba Ayub would lift him up and take him into the house, and Qais would watch with great attention as his father washed up, and then he would sit beside Baba Ayub at suppertime. After they had eaten, Baba Ayub would sip his tea, watching his family, picturing a day when all of his children married and gave him children of their own, when he would be proud patriarch to an even greater brood. It happened one day that a div came to Maidan Sabz. As it approached the village from the direction of the mountains, the earth shook with each of its footfalls. The villagers dropped their shovels and hoes and axes and scattered. They locked themselves in their homes and huddled with one another. When the deafening sounds of the div’s footsteps stopped, the skies over Maidan Sabz darkened with its shadow. It was said that curved horns sprouted from its head and that coarse black hair covered its shoulders and powerful tail. They said its eyes shone red. No one knew for sure, you understand, at least no one living: The div ate on the spot those who dared steal so much as a single glance. Knowing this, the villagers wisely kept their eyes glued to the ground.

Everyone at the village knew why the div had come. They had heard the tales of its visits to other villages and they could only marvel at how Maidan Sabz had managed to escape its attention for so long. Perhaps, they reasoned, the poor, stringent lives they led in Maidan Sabz had worked in their favor, as their children weren’t as well fed and didn’t have as much meat on their bones. Even so, their luck had run out at last. Maidan Sabz trembled and held its breath. Families prayed that the div would bypass their home for they knew that if the div tapped on their roof, they would have to give it one child. The div would then toss the child into a sack, sling the sack over its shoulder, and go back the way it had come. No one would ever see the poor child again. And if a household refused, the div would take all of its children. So where did the div take the children to? To its fort, which sat atop a steep mountain. The div’s fort was very far from Maidan Sabz. Valleys, several deserts, and two mountain chains had to be cleared before you could reach it. And what sane person would, only to meet death? They said the fort was full of dungeons where cleavers hung from walls. Meat hooks dangled from ceilings. They said there were giant skewers and fire pits. They said that if it caught a trespasser, the div was known to overcome its aversion to adult meat. I guess you know which rooftop received the div’s dreaded tap. Upon hearing it, Baba Ayub let an agonized cry escape from his lips, and his wife fainted cold. The children wept with terror, and also sorrow, because they knew that the loss of one among them was now assured. The family had until the next dawn to make its offering.

What can I say to you of the anguish that Baba Ayub and his wife suffered that night? No parent should have to make a choice such as this. Out of the children’s earshot, Baba Ayub and his wife debated what they should do. They talked and wept and talked and wept. All night, they went back and forth, and, as dawn neared, they had yet to reach a decision—which was perhaps what the div wanted, as their indecision would allow it to take five children instead of one. In the end, Baba Ayub collected from just outside the house five rocks of identical size and shape. On the face of each he scribbled the name of one child, and when he was done he tossed the rocks into a burlap sack. When he offered the bag to his wife, she recoiled as though it held a venomous snake. “I can’t do it,” she said to her husband, shaking her head. “I cannot be the one to choose. I couldn’t bear it.”

“Neither could I,” Baba Ayub began to say, but he saw through the window that the sun was only moments away from peeking over the eastern hills. Time was running short. He gazed miserably at his five children. A finger had to be cut, to save the hand. He shut his eyes and withdrew a rock from the sack. I suppose you also know which rock Baba Ayub happened to pick. When he saw the name on it, he turned his face heavenward and let out a scream. With a broken heart, he lifted his youngest son into his arms, and Qais, who had blind trust in his father, happily wrapped his arms around Baba Ayub’s neck. It wasn’t until Baba Ayub deposited him outside the house and shut the door that the boy realized what was amiss, and there stood Baba Ayub, eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from both, back against the door, as his beloved Qais pounded his small fists on it, crying for Baba to let him back in, and Baba Ayub stood there, muttering, “Forgive me, forgive me,” as the ground shook with the div’s footsteps, and his son screeched, and the earth trembled again and again as the div took its leave from Maidan Sabz, until at last it was gone, and the earth was still, and all was silence but for Baba Ayub, still weeping and asking Qais for forgiveness.

What did Baba Ayub do? Stick around for more.